Cavalon reached up and pressed his hands to either side of the duct and secured a firm grip. With a grunt, he pulled, but couldn’t squeeze through. He told himself to think small, then forced the air out of his lungs and tucked his shoulders forward to make himself as narrow as possible. He huffed as he pulled, then managed to barely wedge his torso into the duct.
“Void…” Rake grumbled.
“Come on,” he breathed, “cut me a break. I have broader shoulders—man shoulders.”
“Stop talking,” she whispered. “Your oafish grunts are loud enough.”
He let out a series of quiet, sharp breaths as he squirmed into a standing position, then began to palm his way up the passage. He gained tenuous footholds at the seams of the ductwork, and his knuckles went white as he pressed into the vent as hard as he could without actually punching a hole through the metal.
He awkwardly climbed for a few grueling minutes, then a glittering silver and copper hand appeared, dangling beside his face. He braced his feet, then let go with one hand and gripped Rake’s forearm. With consummate ease, she hauled him up over the ledge into a much larger vent shaft. And much cooler. Cavalon sat back and exhaled with relief, while the muscles of his arms and legs burned from his Imprint-assisted climb.
He got the impression they were now on the second deck of the ship, possibly even higher. The wall at one end featured a meter-wide grate backed by a series of thin, wide slats—some kind of bladeless fan system. A mess of tangled wires wove into a metal trellis behind it, all coated in thick dust. Hazy, thin light peeked through the slats.
Rake silently crawled toward the large fan and Cavalon followed. While she inspected the contraption, he carefully peered through the slats to look into the room beyond. Or below, as the case happened to be. The vent exited about three meters above the height of the floor, looking down on a spacious room.
A mini command center consisting of three terminals lined one wall, with a mismatch of tables and chairs scattered in the center of the room. A putrid approximation of a kitchen took up another wall—filthy dishes and food waste strewn about on the counters and overflowing from the sink and garbage chute.
Two Drudgers sat across from each other at a table, gnawing on crumbling food bricks. A third snoozed on a couch below the grate.
Rake caught Cavalon’s eye and jerked her head back, motioning for him to follow. They crawled back a ways, then she whispered, “Those bolts are reinforced, and there’s a few dozen. I’ll need your help kicking out this grate.”
His back straightened. “Okay.”
“But stay up here until I’m done,” she warned. “I can’t get a good visual, so I’m not sure how many are down there. Don’t follow me into the room until it’s over.”
“Got it, sir.”
She slid the commandeered plasma pistol from the back of her belt to the front, then crawled toward the grate. He followed, mirroring her position as she leaned back on her elbows, feet lifted. His Imprints moved into his legs, and her silver and copper squares appeared to do the same, disappearing under her shirt.
Cavalon reserved a handful of his Imprints for his forearms, and willed them to take on the same tacky quality to help keep himself in place. He nodded at Rake. She silently counted, and on three, they drove their heels hard into the grate.
Rake slid away before Cavalon even realized they’d succeeded. She disappeared off the edge into a storm of white dust. A clang of metal rang out as the grate hit the ground, accompanied by a chorus of shocked Drudger yelps.
Cavalon coughed as he scrambled forward to make sure she’d landed okay. But the thick coating of dust sent him gliding over the slick metal just a little too far—right off the edge after her.
His Imprints cushioned the fall, but a shock of pain still coursed through his right side as he hit the ground hard. Rake had already gotten to her feet—or maybe she’d landed that way—dust raining down on her as she sliced the throat of the napping Drudger. The stunned Drudgers at the table were still clamoring to their feet as she rushed toward them. She simultaneously stabbed one and shot the other. Two more Drudgers appeared in an open doorway at the back of the room and she moved to intercept.